crated to the diocese of Ramsbury, merged soon after the conquest in that of Salisbury. He was present, eleven years afterwards, at the battle of Brunanburgh, and distinguished himself upon the field. We are not sure whether Dr. Hook writes seriously or in jest when he excuses this union of the military and clerical characters. If he were not known to be so very good a churchman we should almost suspect him of irony:

A bishop in those days did not consider a command in the field of battle more incompatible with his sacred office than we should regard a seat in parliament at the present time. A bishop is required in parliament to stand as a polemic, to raise his voice in defence of Christianity against the increasing forces of the infidel, and to defend his flock against the onslaught of the pagans. A bishop of the tenth century uplifted his right hand, and girded on his armour, using not a sword indeed, for that was contrary to clerical etiquette, but a yet more formidable weapon, a club studded with spikes.'

Odo was translated to the primacy and enthroned at Canterbury in the year 942; he died in 958. But it was in these sixteen years that the blow was struck, which, under his successor Dunstan, was fatal to the Anglo-Saxon church. He introduced the Benedictine order; sternly forbade marriage to the priesthood; lorded it over a young and inexperienced sovereign; and brought the old English clergy, the "secular party," into subjection to the monks, the obsequious tools of Odo and the pope. Dunstan completed the nefarious enterprise; and therefore Odo and Dunstan have descended to us, embalmed in lying chronicles of popish annalists, as the greatest of AngloSaxon saints. Under Dunstan the ancient minsters were transmuted into cathedrals. Instead of clerical colleges, they became the centres of monastic discipline; and the cathedral clergy, if they did not divorce their wives, and submit in every respect to the monkish discipline, were degraded and expelled. Dr. Hook assigns to Odo the first rank amongst ecclesiastical statesmen, such as Becket, Wolsey, Laud, Richelieu, and Mazarin. This distinction, he well deserves. Osbern, a monkish writer, chants his praises to the same strain:-"There was no man in all England who, without his permission, could move hand or foot." But woe to the church of Christ under such a ruler!

The story of Dunstan is too well known to be repeated here; nor has Dr. Hook been able to place it in a new light, or to add to our previous information. He completed the degradation of the Saxon church, and harnessed it to the pope's chariot. A reign of darkness set in, which went on deepening for full five hundred years. The clouds then gradually broke; but more than two centuries again elapsed before the day dawned at the reformation. Odo and Dunstan may have been good men ; we have no reason to question the sincerity of either; only that

Dunstan appears to us to have been frequently insane; but they were the agents of incalculable mischief. There are no two names in our ecclesiastical history to whom English Christians owe so little of the respect which is due to the memory of departed goodness.

We lay down Dr. Hook's first volume with contending feelings. As the historian of a period of our history which has had some charms for ourselves, we admire his diligence, and admit not only his accuracy and research, but the skill with which he has disentangled obscure and complicated events, and the interest which he has thrown over those portions of the story which, in other hands, might have been dry and barren. We should have been glad to have awarded much higher praise. Occasionally we meet with serious reflections by no means commonplace; such as ought to occur, and that naturally, in a religious history, composed by a religious man. There are others, as we have seen, which leave us at a loss to decide whether his volume ought to find its way to the tables of our readers, bearing in mind that the young are, for the most part, the readers of history. At any rate, we must caution Dr. Hook, before he again denounces the prejudices of other men to take some pains to subdue his own.

ITALY IN 1860.

A Century of Despotism in Naples and Sicily. Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglass. 1860.

Garibaldi: an Autobiography. Routledge, Warne, and Routledge. 1860.

L'Empereur François Joseph I et L'Europe. Paris. 1860. The Times.

1860.

IN the year 753 before the Christian era, by the common computation, a man of strong and energetic mind, of whom many fabulous stories were told, laid the foundations of Rome, and soon peopled it with Greeks, Latins, Tuscans, Albans, and many others, of indifferent character, who cast in their lot as adventurers with him. When the city was built, the first act of the founder was to dedicate it to "the god of war;" and almost his first thought was, how to reduce the rude masses of his people to discipline and order.

To grant a constitution seems to have been his plan. Without this, his rough and untamed people-many of them like the

Lazzaroni of the present day-would have been too much even for the mind of Romulus. Others besides Remus might have leaped in derision across his incipient fortifications, and he himself might have been forced to find a refuge a second time among the wolves and the shepherds of the Apennines. But his mind grasped the idea that to make his people respectable he should give them a position commanding respect; and in order to make them obey the laws, he should give those that were competent among them an interest in framing those laws. Accordingly we find the infant state governed by the king, the senate, and the assembly of the people; and, with modifications as to the title of the chief magistrate, king, consul, dictator, emperor, this was, in the main, the constitution of Rome during the days of her ancient glory. Under this, Italy became a united empire; by the armies of this, proud Carthage was subdued, and Scipio's victories spread over western Europe; under this, Julius Cæsar • penetrated to Britain, and was a conqueror on the banks of the Nile; and under this, the emperor Constantine raised the standard of the cross, "in hoc vince," and protected and cherished the church of Christ, in the wide-spread empire of Rome.

But other days came. A despotic rule superseded the constitutional-sometimes milder, sometimes sterner,-till, as years rolled on, the Roman empire declined and fell; and in this, our nineteenth century, we find one of its fairest portions-the seat of government in days of yore-the peninsula of Italy, under the despotic sway of a pope, and of the houses of Hapsburg, Bourbon, and Lorraine.

If that pope, and if those houses, had granted "the constitution" mildly requested, in the first instance, by their people, and often promised by themselves, central and southern Italy, at least, might still be under their rule. But their eyes were blinded; another principle was at work; and the good providence of God was preparing the way for Italy to be "free from the Alps to the Adriatic;" and that civil and religious liberty should be established on a solid basis, from Capes Passaro and Spartivento to the summit of the Splugen and the Julian Alps. In looking at the Italian question, we intend, in the first place, to review the state of things at the beginning of 1860; then to glance at the occurrences of that eventful year; and, thirdly, to give some report of the religious state of the country, and its probable future as regards the gospel of Christ.

When the sun rose on the 1st January, 1860, many clouds were obscuring the expected future of Italy. It is true the Austrians were driven beyond the Mincio, and men breathed freely in Lombardy. Farini was established as lieutenant of the king of Sardinia over Parına, Modena, and the Romagna; the army of central Italy was well organized under general Fanti; and the provisional government of Tuscany, as well as

the people, were crying out "Viva Italia! Viva Vittorio Emmanuel!" though a transalpine influence, for reasons known only to itself, prevented the Prince of Carignano from presiding, in the king's name, over the affairs of that state.

But a powerful army was in Naples and Sicily, ready, at a moment's warning, to take the field; and Francis II. seemed at least as unyielding in reality, and as arrogant, as Ferdinand, when, in reply to good advice from Louis-Philippe of France, he said, "the Bourbons are too ancient a race to consent to innovations." Strange rumours, too, were afloat about Austrian interference in the south, and respecting the carrying out of the plan proposed in high quarters for the federation of the Italian states. Then the papal army was to be greatly increased-Germans, Swiss, and other foreign mercenaries were to be enrolled, and an Irish contingent was promised by Cardinal Wiseman. The Perugian massacre, too, was fresh in the memory of more than widows and orphans, and the population of whole towns and villages were in dread of the worse than heathen barbarism of "his holiness the pope." And besides all this, the French emperor, just returned from his triumphs at Magenta, Palestro, and Solferino, the emperor who fought "for an idea," had not only suddenly and rashly concluded the peace of Villafranca, with clauses in the treaty disastrous to the rising prospects of Italy, but had also demanded Nice and Savoy as payment for his services, till then considered disinterested and free.

But further changes were to take place, and brighter days were to come. Early in the year a strange man appeared on the scene-Giuseppe Garibaldi-who had commanded some irregular troops in the Lombardo-Venetian campaign of 1859, and who had recently been returned by his native county, Nice, as deputy to the parliament at Turin. Garibaldi was born in 1807, in the city of Nice. He was the son, and the grandson of sailors; and was educated as well as the slender means of his parents would allow. From early years he was practical in all he did. "I learned gymnastics," he said, "by climbing among the shrouds, and in stepping along the ropes; the use of the sword I learnt in defending my own head. and equitation by following the example of the best horsemen in the world, the Gauches." His life up to this time has been one of the most remarkable on record a life of daring adventures, of hairbreadth escapes, and of singular disinterestedness in all that he has done. We find him at one time a sailor, then a voluntary assistant in the cholera hospital at Marseilles, then a private tutor, a corsair in the La Plata, a bullock drover, a commercial agent, a soldier! Two illustrations will serve to show his character as a soldier, even before he displayed the talents of a general on his loved Italian soil. He was in the service of one of the small, and then undefined, South American

republics, of which Montevideo was the chief town. He had raised, equipped, and then commanded an Italian legion. In one of the many battles the passage of the Bayada-the legionaries had shown great steadiness and bravery, and the officer who made the report to the Montevidean general Paz, remarked, "They fought like tigers." "That is not to be wondered at," replied the general," they are commanded by a lion." On another occasion the affair of the Salto Sant'Antonio, a brave trooper of the enemy's cavalry, seeing Garibaldi and his men grouped around a shed with a straw roof, which, though no defence against balls, was yet a shelter from the scorching sun, took a firebrand in his hand, clapped spurs to his horse, and, regardless of danger, galloped through the midst of the Italian legion, and cast his firebrand at the roof of the shed, thinking to dislodge the entire group. The Italians were about to fire one moment more and he would have been dead-but Garibaldi cried out, "Spare brave fellows like him, they belong to our race;" and no one fired.

In the beginning of 1847 there appeared something like the dawn of constitutional liberty in Italy. But like the beautiful aurora borealis, the accompaniment of the magnetic storm, which lights up the heavens, and often flatters the traveller with the hope that day is near, and then recedes, and leaves him in darkness again; so this apparent dawn was but the accompaniment of that rising political storm which in the few succeeding years swept through the mountains and valleys of the peninsula, sometimes from one quarter, sometimes from another, and ended by snapping in the midst, at Novara, the tree of liberty planted by Charles Albert of Savoy. Garibaldi left Montevideo to take his part in the struggle, and reached his native land; and as he neared the coast he hoisted the tri-coloured flag of Italy, improvised, as he says, "with half a bed sheet, a red scarf, and the remains of the green facings of our uniforms."

Simple and guileless as Garibaldi ever was, and we hope ever will be, he imagined that the liberal antecedents of Cardinal Ferreti formed a guarantee for liberal institutions, when he, as Pio Nono, put on the triple crown; but he did not know the pope, or popery. He wrote to Pio Nono explaining his views; of course, he never received a reply.

Discouraged, but not cast down, he volunteered his services to Charles Albert. Afterwards he joined the Milanese army, then accepted an invitation to go and help the Sicilians, but gave up his designs in that quarter, and arrived in Rome just as the triumvirs had resolved to repel the advance of the French army of occupation, sent by the French republic, and its dictator, general Cavaignac, "to protect the material interests and the morals of the Romish population." We must here be allowed to insert a description of Garibaldi, given by an eye